


You'll be gone in the morning

by obsessivewriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And if there is any potential that this could trigger you please avoid this, Angry Sex, Angst, But I acknowledge that someone may have a different perception, F/M, Feelings at the end, Smut, This was written as a consensual encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivewriter/pseuds/obsessivewriter
Summary: Eighteen months after sailing west of Westeros Arya Stark finds her way to the chambers of the Lord of Storm's End. Gendry has had enough time to think and he has convinced himself that the only thing that can be there between them is sex. When Arya tries to explain her reasons for coming to see him, Gendry is not interested in talking.





	You'll be gone in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one night a few weeks ago, and now I took the time to polish it. It is a different take on their reunion, and while a bit rough, it is 100% consensual. Hope you like it.
> 
> Shoutout to Thereluctantbadger for helping me get this ready.

Gendry did not expect to find her there, not then.  
  
Mayhaps in the past, right after he arrived from King's Landing, when he was still hopeful, while he daydreamed, hammering the steel into shape, that the ship Davos arranged would bring her to him. But day in and day out, his hope died a sad death, like a fire that dwindles, untended in the small hours of the night.  
  
Yet he could not say he was surprised to find her one night, as he came back sweaty from working with his people, perched on the desk in his chambers. He took a moment to take her in, her hair braided back but not tight as it had been before. She was barefoot, her boots lined up on the floor and her weapons laying neatly on the desk.  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments, both trying to say something without words, but it had been long since he thought he could read anything in her big expressive eyes. Back then, he thought what he saw in them was love, but in all those many moons of loneliness, he had been convinced that whatever was soft there, was not love. Pity, mayhaps, tenderness for a boy from her past, but no, not love.  
  
"You look well, m'lady. Or should I say, _captain_?"  
  
Arya was used to the teasing tone every time he called her _m'lady_, but sitting on his desk, she couldn't detect teasing anymore, and the words he chose to call her were said with the same disdain that she was well aware he saved for the highborn.  
  
She jumped off the desk and stared while he sat on a chair to remove his boots.  
  
"I've only just come back," she started explaining, "I came here before anywhere else," while the voice in her mind kept repeating _'he has to know, he has to understand.'_  
  
Gendry took a moment to savor her words in his mouth and found them bitter. Words he dreamed of moon turn after moon turn. Instead, he looked down to set the second boot next to the first on the floor. His head shook a bit, and he sighed. It only took him a moment to find his resolve, to accept that if she had used him in the past, it hadn't been as a form of betrayal.  
  
She never made promises.  
  
Gendry had hammered his rage one day, soon after he arrived in Storm's End the first time. He had screamed his lungs out until there was no steel song to hear. Once exhausted, the hammer fell from his hand after a complete waste of metal, and he collapsed to the floor, fury spent. And there, in all his pathetic misery, he finally acknowledged that what she had asked of him that night back in Winterfell was just to make her feel something before she died.  
  
And feel he showed her, but once the deed was done, there was nothing else.  
  
He wasn't stupid enough to miss that she had come to him, mayhaps in the name of the friendship they once had, mayhaps because he had kept her secrets well before. He should be grateful that in the eve of death, she had trusted him with her last bit of humanity.  
  
Now that he had her standing in his rooms he thought that it was moot to ask why she had come to see him. If she had a reason, real or not, he was not in the mood to hear it. What he also knew without a doubt was the flames that the two of them ignited still burned, promises, or not.  
  
He stood up then, and he walked towards her with sure steps. Arya looked at him approaching, sure he would stop in front of her, but still keeping his distance. She was prepared for the fight she was sure was coming, the one she had rehearsed in her head countless nights in her cabin. But he did not stop until his body was almost touching her, and his hand came to her back, making her body crash against him. His eyes looked intently at her, but they were no longer the ice blue she remembered, and she no longer could read anything in them. After a few moments, he moved his head towards her, and she thought that he would kiss her, but he hesitated, and instead his lips and his teeth attacked her neck.  
  
Arya felt her knees weaken, and she did not miss the lack of tenderness she had come to expect from Gendry. She wouldn't be fooled into thinking this was an expression of love.  
  
"I want to explain to you, why I'm here," she said quietly, eyes closed relishing on what the mouth she had missed was doing to her.  
  
"No need to explain," he said, pausing his kisses to her neck, "I know exactly why you are here."  
  
Pulling back, his hands searched for the laces of her tunic, yanking at them until the thin fabric parted to reveal the swells of her breasts. She had looked down to see his handiwork and then back to him. His eyes were no longer in hers, and instead, they were dark, looking at her exposed skin. Later she'd make him understand, convince him that she had taken him with her on that boat, imprinted on her skin and melded into her heart.  
  
There would be time later for all that, she convinced herself, but right then they would burn.  
  
By then, he had rid himself of his own tunic, and she took the time to get reacquainted with his muscular torso. Her hand reached to him, and she found him even firmer than he had been in the storeroom in Winterfell. That was not the body of a new lord who had grown accustomed to the finer things a bastard boy from Flea Bottom could have only dreamed about. No, without knowing for sure, she was confident that his harder muscles were the fruit of Gendry working side by side with the ones he considered his people. Her left hand traced the dark freckle she remembered just southwest of his navel, the same one she had conjured during feverish nights at sea.  
  
Gendry was distracted for a moment by her hands on him and allowed himself a second to savor the moment with eyes closed. Once he opened them, he swatted her hands away, no longer choosing to be the passive one, and instead, his hands went to unlace her breeches, pulling them down carelessly, her body jerking as he yanked at her clothes.  
  
After he had her naked he pulled her to him again, and his leg came in between hers, pushing her back until she had to brace herself on the desk with her hands, and the movement made her tunic slide back, bringing her breasts up like an offering. With his hand still on the small of her back, he took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the peak, and then capturing it in between his teeth, and pulling back slightly.  
  
"I know exactly why you're here, m'lady," he said once more, as he walked her towards his bed. When the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, Arya attempted to push him, as she had done their first time, but this time he was prepared, and his feet where planted firmly on the ground.  
  
"No, you've got your turn already," he whispered as he took her in his arms, turned them around, and threw her unceremoniously on the bed. As Arya stared, surprised at his demeanor, he unlaced himself and let his breeches fall to the floor. Arya had no doubt he liked the sight of her bare on his bed, as his proud erection proved. Gendry crawled on the bed above her, and she let herself lie down. Kneeling, Gendry's hand came to her hip, caressing and squeezing, taking a moment to remember the skin that very briefly he thought his. The voice in his head reminding him not to make that mistake anymore. At that thought, he suddenly turned her around, so her belly was against the featherbed. Gendry sat back over his ankles, and his hands went to her hips, pulling back until her perky backside hit his crotch. The hand on her left hip moved to her front and dipped down until it found her slit, and his middle finger probed her, making her moan.  
  
Arya had no doubt he found her ready.  
  
"I'd like to tell you why I came here," she moaned with her eyes closed.  
  
"It doesn't matter what story you made up to convince yourself to come to my home when this is the only thing I know you want from me, m'lady."  
  
Arya wanted to correct him, to say that he was more than a way to scratch an itch, to tell him how some of the nights of her voyage the memory of his voice made her tremble as she tried to imagine her fingers were his, but most of them it made her cry. But before she could form the words, he sank in her flesh, making sure her body remembered him.  
  
Gendry's resolve faltered for a moment when he found her as tight as she had been when he had taken her maidenhead. As he took a moment to let her body get accustomed to him once more, it reminded him of how she winced when he had pierced her seal, despite how much he had tried to be gentle. Thinking of that tenderness transported him to days of winter, and his heartache once she rejected him.  
  
He knew she had not been intentionally cruel, but at the end of the day, she had used him nonetheless. He knew the ache of his heart he'd nurse to the end of his days, but the slight to his pride he could heal right then, committing to pleasuring her until she forgot everything but his name.  
  
If sporadic lovers were the only thing they really were to one another, he'd give himself with the same stubbornness one could expect from his Baratheon blood. At the thought, he started to move, his thrusts were powerful, but he took his time pulling back and then thrusting back into her. Her moans and sighs steered him, and he increased his pace accordingly. Arya was now supporting herself on her hands and knees, and he kept one hand on her core, enticing her, and the other hand on her breast, seeking to overwhelm her senses. With every thrust, he pulled her back with his hands, making them crash into each other. He didn't need to guide her back since Arya was actively moving against him, but he needed to keep a sense of control.  
  
Very soon he was lunging fast and strong, and he knew that she would be sore the next day, but the next day, he was convinced, she'd be on her way out of his life, and he hoped it happened while he slept to avoid the pain of watching her leave again.  
  
_'There, that way we'll both have something to ache.'_  
  
He felt her tightening around him, announcing him she was getting close, and he let go of her breast and brought that hand to her hip to get more purchase. Arya felt her peak coming with the same certainty she knew that what he was doing to her was fucking and not making love. She used her strength to clamp her feet around his legs, and she pushed back to get herself upright. Gendry tried to push her back, but she didn't let him.  
  
"No!" She protested as she moved away from him, disengaging from their coupling. She found the way to twist back, and pulled on his shoulders, making him lose his balance and fall on top of her. Gendry knew he was heavy for her and that he should rise to relieve her from his weight, but he could feel her nipples against his chest, and his length resting on top of her slick folds and took a moment to savor the feeling. Once he pushed on his palms, set on either side of her head, he took the time to rock back and forth, letting her hard nipples trace patterns on his chest, and his hardness furrow in between her lips.  
  
Arya's hand was soon grabbing at his cock, guiding it back into her, her hands meeting at his muscled back, and her legs wrapping tightly over his hips. If he wasn't going to listen to her words, she'd tell him with her body.  
  
Looking into her eyes again, as he entered her, Gendry was almost convinced he could read the love he once thought was there the night he had called her beautiful. And unable to listen to what her eyes tried to tell him, he closed his.  
  
Soon they were moving in synch again, and they were both close to the precipice.  
  
"Gendry," she called, making him open his eyes.  
  
"Kiss me," Arya pleaded, with the same emotion she had when she begged him to follow her and be her family.  
  
He didn't want to kiss her, sure he wouldn't be able to keep his heart closed if he did, but the way she looked at him made him yield. They kissed each other frantically, and soon he felt the tight coil inside of her break, prompting his own release.  
  
In the fog of his bliss, face buried in the crook of her neck, he knew he couldn't keep her out of his heart.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Her words startled him and made him pull away from her. He lay back on his side, and she turned to face him.  
  
"I love you," she professed once more, this time with her hand on his chest.  
  
"You don't."  
  
He pushed himself to lie on his back, his hands coming to rest over his eyes.  
  
"I do," she said closer to him, resting her chest on his.  
  
"You'll be gone in the morning."  
  
"I won't."  
  
Gendry pulled his arms from his face, and brought them to the bed, supporting his body on his elbows.  
  
"Don't you see this is better? If this is what I am to you, why can't you just let it go?"  
  
He kept rising, making Arya lean back and see him sit up, setting his legs on the floor over the side of the bed.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Not enough."  
  
"More than you know."  
  
"You're leaving tomorrow," he repeated.  
  
"I'm not," she insisted, kneeling behind him and embracing him from behind, her lips on his neck.  
  
"You only came to remind yourself what it felt like"  
  
"I didn't need to come all this way for that."  
  
"I used you, there was no love in that."  
  
"I used you before, and yes, there was. That may have been fucking, but I loved you throughout."  
  
He turned at her words.  
  
"You really mean it?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"What changed? You didn't love me before."  
  
"I always loved you, it was me I had no love for."  
  
"You could have asked me to go with you," Gendry explained, half turning and taking her hands in his, "I had more than enough love for me and you, more than enough for you to learn to love yourself, more than enough to waste."  
  
"I didn't think I deserved it," Arya replied, her eyes cast down.  
  
"You left me behind with all this love, and nothing to do with it," Gendry explained, lifting her chin.  
  
"Is there any left?" She asked with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Will you really stay? I don't care how, I don't care if you never share my bed again, just tell me you will stay. I don't need a lady or a wife, I just want you to still be my friend, and to stay."  
  
Arya embraced him and set her forehead against his.  
  
"I can't be just your friend and never share your bed again. I cannot stay and witness you marry another woman and start a family with her. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours."  
  
Only then Gendry let himself kiss her like he wanted to kiss her every night in the eighteen moon turns since he held her in his arms.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologized, his eyes once more vibrant like the sea that took her away, tears mirroring her own, "that was cruel," he said, tilting his head to the center of the bed.  
  
"It was rough, and it was great," she explained, caressing his jaw, "but never cruel."  
  
"You'll be sore in the morning."  
  
Arya knew he was right, but she would also be waking up in the arms of her best friend and the man she loved. She could deal with a little ache.  
  
"You'll just have to make it up to me," she explained, smiling.  
  
Gendry held her closer to him.  
  
"As you wish, my love."


End file.
